


i'd like to be a note/the kind you could sing

by ConsoleCowboy



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Fake Dating, Other, Season: Twilight Mirage, Worthy of Grace, dumbasses in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsoleCowboy/pseuds/ConsoleCowboy
Summary: Fourteen needs a date for their latest Castlerose mission, and there is one person they trust above all.





	i'd like to be a note/the kind you could sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruemasde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruemasde/gifts).



> yells in gay, god this was fun to write. i hope you like it!!  
> ty to lyds (@spiderangst on twitter, cynical_optimist on ao3) for being the best beta reader!!  
> catch me on twitter @NightinGem for more useless gay rambling

Worthy of Grace’s name is well-earned. Their dress shimmers, an idealized, artsy mirror of the showhouse around them, dancing blues and purples and oranges mingling into seats and curtains and fancy pillars. Their voice is strong, peppy, and gentle all the same, soaring high on the eclectic combination of opera and pop. There’s slight hesitation in their voice sometimes, imperfect slip-ups that just add authenticity to their performances.

That’s what people figure, anyway. Tender knows the reason Worthy of Grace isn’t pitch-perfect is because they’re not quite who they were before they got a body--or, from the perspective of Fourteen, got a new body? God, this stuff is confusing, she thinks to herself as she watches her friend-turned-popstar command the stage.

Tender isn’t often able to go to Fourteen’s performances, or if she’s honest, interested in the snooty-yet-irritatingly-energetic crowds their performances attract, but the few she does attend she appreciates. An excuse to dress up fancy, have a few drinks, and see her friend is always nice, though Fourteen is rarely able to talk to her one-on-one because the paparazzi would be all over that.

Hm. She’s definitely just kinda staring at Worthy of Grace’s dark, sparkling face alright. The music’s good and their dress is cool (and hugs their body in all the right ways), but their face is so full of life and energy, enthusiasm that they’ve never really been able to convey in the past. 

Is it the new body? Tender’s noticed Fourteen changes a bit when they transfer, still the same person but with something a little new. But this is something more, she thinks, this is Fourteen being able to have a bit of a normal life that doesn’t involve being a secret cop or an assassin. She can’t take her eyes off them, their joy is so intoxicating.

Also...man, they’re just pretty. Tender’s always been a sucker for pretty folks, and Worthy of Grace is real goddamn pretty. She was sure she was going to have a heart attack the first time she’d met them in this form. A _professional _heart attack, of course, but like, a heart attack, because heck. Pretty co-worker.__

____

____

This is pretty much how she ended up hooking up with Open Metal but yeah whatever, this’ll be different probably, and Fourteen is very much not Open Metal so things’ll be super fine and professional. Yep.

Tender is telling herself that after the show when Fourteen weaves gracefully (hah) through the crowd, signing autographs with a deft hand and humming peacefully, and suddenly is right up next to her, lips to her ear, curly hair softly brushing hers.

“Meet me in my dressing room in ten minutes,” they whisper, sending a shiver up Tender’s spine and standing her tail on end. Before she can say anything, Fourteen has moved on, speaking with media and ruffling kids’ hair. Tender is a little dazed (and maybe a little tipsy) but she finds her way backstage, pushing through VIPs and security who’ve evidently been informed a big disaster gay catgirl in heels and a fabulously glittery bodysuit was on the A-list.

“Worthy of Grace will see you soon, Ms. Sky,” says one of them, a short, stocky synthetic with gold plating and a round head. Tender nods as she enters the dressing room, a mirrored, perfume-scented place of makeup and outfits and all manner of get-up, busy yet cozy.

There’s the faint hint of blue lipsick on her left ear, Tender notes. Boy, Fourteen had gotten close there.

Tender’s fidgeting with a makeup brush when Fourteen enters, and she just about knocks over a whole line of products trying to stuff it back where it belongs. Fourteen laughs, and Tender’s ears flatten sheepishly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“There’s no need to worry, Tender,” they say, and this just makes Tender blush harder. “I’m glad to see you here.”

“Me too,” Tender says, and giggles a bit. “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

“As have I,” Fourteen smiles, idly gliding a comb through their hair. “It’s unfortunately rare that we’re able to interact between missions.”

“Yeah.” Tender can tell that something’s eating at them. Not something _bad_ , per se, but they want to say something and are looking for the words, looking for them on Tender’s face and in their head. It’s charming, really, how practiced Fourteen is, how much they want to say things the right way and how sometimes they stutter a bit.

“Tender,” they say after a pause, “I would like to extend to you an offer.”

“Oh?” Tender waves her tail inquisitively. “I’m listening.”

“I know you are not the biggest fan of Miss’s Castlerose, and I understand you fully on that front.” Ah. “However, I am in need of assistance from somebody whom I trust and work well alongside, and I cannot think of somebody more qualified than you.”

“I’m honored,” Tender purrs, hm should she be purring? Probably not. Oh well.

“Are you aware of the existence of one Mr. Cascade Valorise?”

“Vaguely. Some jackass, right?”

“‘Jackass’ would be an accurate term to describe him, yes. He’s the owner of Valor Entertainment, and manipulator of many more. I have been hired to exterminate him, and circumstances demand a partner.”

Tender’s definitely ‘not the biggest fan of’ Fourteen’s other career, but this seems pretty reasonable. She can get someone else to run the Steady for a day or so, probably. Also she extremely hates seeing this guy on every other interview and he makes trash that her patrons seem to like.

She nods. “Go on.”

“I do mean partner in...several senses. The circumstance we have set up for the operation is a high-profile gala, where attendees are expected to bring a date. Worthy of Grace is invited to this gala.” Fourteen stops. The implication is pretty clear, and obviously the thing they wanted to get out of their system.

“You want me, Tender Sky, disgraced ex-priestess and member of the Beloved Dust, to be your date to this extremely fancy gala.” God, Tender extremely wants to go to this gala. She’s always wanted to go to a gala. She’s being selfish right now, and also fake dating is a _terrible_ idea and she is going to get so incredibly flustered, but also this sounds great and Fourteen is good at their job so this won’t be that bad, right?

“That is the case,” Fourteen says, and rests a hand on one of Tender’s. Their hand is warm and soft and nice. “You should only do this if you feel comfortable. I do not want you to participate in anything you do not wish to.”

“It’s fine, we can keep it professional,” Tender puts her other hand on top of Fourteen’s, creating a sort of hand sandwich. “And I’m pretty good at selling a la romance~”

“I was moreso referring to the illegal killing of an individual, but it is good to hear you will not feel discomfort with that element of the plan,” Fourteen smiles, their face crinkling. They squeeze Tender’s hand a little. “Also, I have no idea what you were trying to say in that last sentence.”

“Oh. Like, I’m good at looking flirty? I mean, just look at me, that’s me, mean bratty flirty catgirl, it’s my whole brand.” Tender is definitely purring now, her face dangerously close to Fourteen’s. She can feel their breath on her face, and her pulse quickens.

“Tender.”

“Yes?”

“Are you intoxicated?”

“...maybe a little.”

Fourteen laughs, and places a hand on Tender’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion another time. Tomorrow, maybe.” They slip Tender a letter, emblazoned with Worthy of Grace’s seal. 

“I do mean it. I’ll help,” Tender says. “I’m not that drunk.”

“I know,” Fourteen says. “It really is nice to see you again.”

“Yeah.” Before Tender can stop herself, she plants a quick kiss on Fourteen’s cheek. They seem surprised, but not unpleased. “It’s practice,” she grins.

“You’re quite convincing.” Fourteen’s definitely blushing, Worthy of Grace more flustered than she’s ever seen them. “See you soon, and take care.”

Tender blows them a kiss on the way out. God, she’s having too much fun with this.

\-- -- -- --

Tender awakens with a light headache that compounds as she remembers last night’s events. Oh boy. She reaches under her pillow and fishes out the letter Fourteen gave them, a bit rumpled, but still unopened and intact. 

_Meet me at the Steady at 11. Xoxo Worthy of Grace_

Tender might put on just a little more makeup than she usually does, a fancier outfit. It’s for the occasion, of course. She preens her ear fluff and curls her hair just so, makes certain the glittery smoke of her eyeshadow is symmetrical. She grins, the whites of her fangs standing in sharp contrast to her dark purple lipstick, makes a little adjustment to her blush, ties a bow into her hair...

It is 11:17 when she makes it to the Steady. Punctuality has never been Tender’s strong suit. She tries to keep the urgency off her face as she walks briskly around the tables, hoping she hasn’t utterly missed the meeting.

“You’re looking well,” Fourteen says from behind her, sipping at a porcelain mug. They’re dressed down and fairly inconspicuously, but the lilt of their voice is unmistakable. They gesture for Tender to take the seat beside them. “I do hope I didn’t set this up too early; last night was certainly a night.”

Tender plops down maybe a bit too quickly, and grins. “I don’t think so, not at all. I just lost track of time.”

“That’s fine,” Fourteen says, blowing delicately at their tea. “You look like you’ve already prepared yourself for the gala, which more than makes up for it.”

“...thanks?” Tender blushes, then thinks a bit. Wait. “When is the gala, anyway?”

“In approximately seven hours.”

“...”

“Is that an issue?”

“Fourteen.”

“Yes, Tender?”

“I...” Fourteen is sitting there, their eyes wide and their head tilted in genuine curiosity, and it’s hard for Tender to admonish them in any way. She shakes her head and lashes her tail, and sighs. “...I just didn’t think the notice on this was that...short is all. I thought we might have some more time to prepare, and, uh, yeah. ‘S not that big of a deal though.”

Fourteen nods. “Ah.” And suddenly, their hand is on Tender’s, squeezing just a bit. 

Tender’s ears shoot up and flushes, unsure of what to do. “Fourteen?”

“I figured that if you were feeling nervous, we could use the time we do have to practice,” they say, releasing their grip. Their hand is still touching Tender’s, but she can feel it starting to pull away. “I can stop if you want.”

“No,” Tender says, maybe a little too quickly, this time grabbing Fourteen’s hand herself. It really is very warm. “This works.”

Fourteen smiles, and stands up, pulling Tender to them in a fluid movement. Tender lets herself be pulled forward smoothly, breathless. “Shall we go? Our ride will be outside shortly.” Fourteen asks, and she nods. Words are things, and those things are very hard to say with your mouth when you’re being held by a very pretty and commanding person.

Well, at least playing the swooning companion won’t be a hard sell.

\-- -- -- --

Galas are fancy. Tender’s used to formal gatherings, she has a history for sure, but this kind of sheer _luxury_ is something not so familiar. Maybe it’s because the By-And-By’s culture is different, maybe it’s because religious ceremonies aren’t as hedonistic (yeah, okay, that’s a lie).

Tender walks arm-in-arm with Fourteen, who’s changed to a shimmering, holographic dress that reflects the space around it in pastels, mesmerizing and beautiful. They’re wearing black heels that make them slightly taller than Tender, and their hair is done up in a fluffy dark afro with streaks of blues and purples and oranges running through like a galaxy. Their pearl earrings sway as they walk with purpose--they are very much a Star here, a Person of Most Importance, and Tender can’t help but feel a little out of her element.

“Mx. Worthy of Grace, it is good to see you,” says the receptionist, a pale, freckled young person with chrome arms and a large visor. Xe looks at Tender, and nods. “I take it this is your plus-one, Ms. Sky?”

“Yes indeed,” says Worthy of Grace, and they kiss Tender’s hand to punctuate. She feels her head spin a little and heat rises to her cheeks, but maintains her posture (she hopes).

“It’s good to see you happy,” says the receptionist. “You’ve seemed a little off lately.”

“Being around the right person is quite a thing,” says Fourteen, and they squeeze Tender’s shoulder. “Thank you for checking in on me, Sheol.”

Sheol flushes, and semi-successfully tries to return xemself to xer customer service expression. “Much appreciated, Mx. Grace. I hope you and your partner enjoy yourselves.” God, Fourteen is charming.

The gala floor is beautiful, fountains and sparkling light and marble pillars, tables lined with the finest feasts, well-dressed people milling about and dancing. For all its excitement, though, it’s a formal affair, business dressed up as fun. Tender’s all too familiar with this, she thinks as she bites into a fluffy pastry. Fourteen is by her side, chatting airily and cheerfully about nothing at all--they too know this drill, and Tender briefly wonders how many lifetimes they’ve suffered it.

“...if you’ll excuse me for a brief moment.” Fourteen’s suddenly got an arm around Tender and she mews in surprise, barely managing to swallow the last bite. They tap her twice with their pinky, the signal that Things are Happening, and Tender steels herself and accompanies them to one of the private side areas.

“So, uh, what’s up?” 

“The plan is in motion. We must buy some time, but if all goes well it will be successful in twenty-seven minutes.”

“Uh-huh,” Tender nods. “And that’s when my part comes in?”

“Precisely,” Fourteen smiles, and Tender isn’t sure what to think, their eyes are so hypnotizing and warm, and yet they’re talking about killing someone. An asshole, yes, but someone. There’s a little sadness there, too, vulnerability. “I must thank you, Tender. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“I mean, I’m mostly just your armpiece and a diversionary for this, but, like, thanks?”

“I am not referring to that, Tender,” Fourteen’s hand is on Tender’s hip, and she knows that this is for potential onlookers’ sake but her pulse rises all the same. “When I am around you, I am able to...thrive in a way that I normally cannot. I am happy.”

Tender blinks, and realizes she’s snaked her tail around Fourteen. She presses herself close to them. “I’m, you’re welcome, I’m glad I can do that? You deserve better than all this, really.” She runs a cautious hand over their back, and feels them shiver. “You sing really well. Like, you, not just Grace.”

Fourteen laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

“No, really!” Tender says, almost yells. She sees Fourteen blush at this, sees them lick their lips just a little, almost too quick to miss. “I don’t really like opera much, but you just give it life, y’know?”

“Thank you, Tender.” Fourteen pauses. They don’t have words, not for this, not for a quiet moment of intimacy, stolen away behind illusory curtains in the back of a gala. Their face has been getting closer to Tender’s, ever so slightly word by word, and she can feel their breath, so close and quiet, and she can’t help but close the gap.

The kiss is short, sweet, intoxicating. Fourteen pulls away first, putting a hand to their mouth, blushing fiercely. Tender is worried for a moment. “Was that too much?”

“No,” they say, quickly and definitively.

“Part of the plan, right?” Tender giggles nervously. Fourteen seems receptive and oh god she just kissed them, fantastic, extremely cool.

“We should discuss this later,” Fourteen says. “We should be on the dancefloor, soon.”

“Yeah, that,” Tender says, and later, she’ll blame the butterflies in her stomach for the intensity of the distraction she tries to conjure, she’ll thank her lucky stars that Sheol (of course xe were in on it) attributed it to a malfunctioning device, she’ll remember the exact moment Fourteen grabs and holds them close as the area is evacuated, the shiver that runs down her spine when they whisper that the operation is complete.

But for now, she laces her fingers with Fourteen’s and walks out to the ballroom, her face aflush and her mind abuzz with pleasant thoughts that drown out the gnawing worry of another failure.

Fourteen’s hands are warm and soft and comforting, and so are their lips, it turns out.


End file.
